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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182096">He Will</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun'>TK_DuVeraun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crestless!Sylvain, Experiment!Sylvain, Gen, OR IS HE, Whump, Woops, Yikes, based on art, mentions of canonical child abuse, mentions of non-canonical child abuse, no beta we die like Glenn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:08:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on waen's Experimented On Sylvain</p><p>---</p><p>Ordelia territory was as far from Gautier as any part of the Alliance could be -- Felix checked -- and Hilda gossiped to Ingrid in his hearing range that Lysithea was only fifteen. <i>Fifteen</i>. Rumor had it Sylvain was a cad, but even the nastiest ones left him with some boundaries.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius &amp; Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>271</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to <a href="https://twitter.com/vwyn19">waen</a> for giving me permission to write this! <a href="https://twitter.com/vwyn19/status/1239757822629306370?s=20">Here's the original</a>. Some details may not match up with their specific AU. Please read the tags and practice self-care while reading this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dimitri was worse than he expected. His father had made him travel to Fhirdiad to travel with the boar prince in a vain hope of making things better. It didn’t work. Dimitri’s mild facade and calm acceptance of his insults painted fresh blood over two year old memories. Dedue would be nice company if he weren’t such a disgusting sycophant. Felix would have preferred to travel with Ingrid, but apparently traveling to Garreg Mach required enough ceremony that it was unseemly for someone from such a poor House to join the heir apparent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t consider that Sylvain could have been an option until he saw him standing outside his room, watching his servant in pressed Gautier livery unloading his things into his room. Felix ignored his own servant doing the same and stepped up to his once-friend. He hadn’t seen Sylvain since before Glenn died, since they promised to die together with the conviction of invincible children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re not dead, after all,” Felix said because as a red-eyed child he could think of no other reason his friend didn’t visit him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain put both hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall with a smirk. “Worried about me? Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to our promise.” He winked and ruffled his own hair. White. Snow white and nothing like the blond that ran through the Blaiddyd and Galatea lines and certainly not Gautier red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to your hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little of this, a little of that. You know girls are crazy for it. I had to get some use out of practicing so much magic.” He laughed, pushed off from the wall and disappeared down the stairs before Felix could press further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he’d intended to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither geography nor girls were Felix’s strong suit, but even he… Rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> he noticed something wrong with Sylvain’s sudden close friendship with Lysithea von Ordelia. Ordelia territory was as far from Gautier as any part of the Alliance could be -- Felix checked -- and Hilda gossiped to Ingrid in his hearing range that Lysithea was only fifteen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fifteen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rumor had it Sylvain was a cad, but even the nastiest ones left him with some boundaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the Ordelia girl had the same diamond white hair. And so did the Imperial Princess. Sylvain wasn’t an idiot, so maybe he was right about the hair thing, not that it mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three weeks into their schooling, two days after the boar almost died to mercenaries, Felix caught Sylvain walking through the gardens and shoved a training lance into his hands. “Let’s train. I need to see how badly you’ve slacked off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain spun the weapon expertly and stuck it over his shoulders, propping his wrists on the wooden shaft. “I’m a mage now, haven’t you heard?” He shook his hips in a manner that he probably thought was alluring, which caused a thick tome strapped to his belt shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you supposed to wield the Lance of Ruin if you’re a mage?” Felix regretted the words before Sylvain reacted. How had he forgotten that Sylvain resented his place as heir? He didn’t intend to beat himself up over it -- he hadn’t seen Sylvain in years, but then Sylvain’s face morphed into something ugly and primal for a moment before it smoothed into Dimitri-esque blandness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dropping the lance and holding it out for Felix, Sylvain winked. “Don’t worry about that, Felix. My father’s got a plan for everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t reassured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s magic was sharp and hard in a way that left a sour taste in Felix’s mouth, and not a good one. The magic was wrong and completely unsuited to the Faerghus Nobility who bathed in traditions like water. Felix knew the feeling of Thoron and Bolganone and Sylvain’s magic was nothing like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Effective, but wrong, with purple motes that floated through the air and stained the tips of his fingers. Felix hated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In time, Felix remembered more of his childhood with Sylvain. Remembered when his tears were for his friend and not himself. He remembered chapped hands with bandaged fingers. He remembered frostbite. He remembered bruises that didn’t come from training.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered an all-encompassing fear-hatred of Miklan that was like nothing before or after. At the cusp of adulthood, Miklan didn’t inspire the paralyzing fear and hysterical tears, but Felix was displeased by the prospect of facing him. Maybe it would be a good test of his skills, but he would rather convince Jeritza to have a bout with him. Even Catherine would do in a pinch, if he could get her to stop talking about Rhea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Felix followed the professor and his class to Conand Tower to retrieve the Lance of Ruin. He remembered the ugly look on Sylvain’s face and couldn’t see the care-free mask underneath it in the present. He fought through Miklan’s thugs, annoyed by each one that stood between him and his goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the pinnacle of the tower, Miklan bared his teeth when he spoke. “Sylvain, you idiot brat. Don’t you understand? Can’t you see? I’m doing this for you! So at least one of us can have a life!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain laughed and the sound was sharper than his magic. “Sorry, Miklan, but it’s too late for that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Miklan transformed into a demonic beast, Sylvain didn’t react. He casually walked up to Ingrid as if they were back at the monastery and took the iron lance from her hands. The rest of the Blue Lions were frozen in a mixture of shock and horror when Sylvain lunged forward with a precise spin of his torso and thrust of the lance head. The Crest of Gautier flashed over his head when he killed the beast that was his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill settled in the pit of Felix’s stomach. Something cold, an old memory frozen in time and covered by newer memories, crawled up, digging icy claws in Felix’s insides until it could whisper in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It spoke with his father’s cursed voice, the one that said Glenn died like a true knight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does Sylvain have a Crest?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain didn’t have a Crest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather, Sylvain </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> had a Crest.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I CANNOT BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR CRIMES AGAINST SYLVAIN</p><p>Extra Gautier siblings inspired by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224306">Euphemea. Please check out their Crestless Sylvain fic</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/euphemeas">twitter. </a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Felix didn’t wait for Ashe to tell him he’d succeeded. He heard the lock click, shoved his way into Sylvain’s room and shut the door behind him before Ashe had a chance to take a breath. He dropped the parcel of food and treats from the Blue Lions that didn’t grow up with the idiot on the bed behind Sylvain’s bowed head. Delivering it had been the price of Ashe’s lockpicking skills and Felix made good on his promises.</p><p>All of them.</p><p>He sat next to Sylvain on the floor and said nothing. Their shoulders touched, just barely. Sylvain didn’t acknowledge him, just kept staring at his hands, at the colorless, peach fuzz hairs on the back of them. They were covered in scars that would have looked random if his skin wasn’t translucent enough to show the blood vessels below. They stretched up Sylvain’s arms before disappearing under his sleeves.</p><p>A bird chirped outside the window, blissfully unaware.</p><p>“Lysithea got one, too?” Felix finally asked. Sylvain was great at talking about everything other than himself.</p><p>“...Yeah.”</p><p>“And the princess?”</p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>“Crests are horseshit.”</p><p>Sylvain laughed. Laughed too hard and too loud until he was crying over clenched hands. He pressed them to his forehead and then cocked his head to the side to glance at Felix from under white lashes. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.”</p><p>“I told my old man about the boar.” Felix scrubbed the back of his head, removing his hair tie when he found it wasn’t satisfying enough. He dropped it on the ground and scrubbed with both hands, as if he could scrape the memory into something better.</p><p>“You never told me why you call him that.”</p><p>“You weren’t there.”</p><p>Sylvain held out his wrists, showing the long lines of scars over scars. Felix looked away, chest aching even though he knew Sylvain hadn’t done them to himself.</p><p>“The old man sent us to quell a rebellion in Western Faerghus. He thought Dimitri was too much of a soft touch and didn’t  want him making a fool out of himself when we came here.” Felix pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, but the blackness did nothing to block out the memory. “He was like an animal. He crushed some pathetic militia man’s skull with his hands. He was grinning the whole time.”</p><p>Sylvain’s entire body rocked with his nod. “That explains a lot.”</p><p>“He wasn’t even surprised to hear it. Said everyone with the Crest of Blaiddyd gets like that sometimes. What kind of shit are we keeping on our throne? That’s what Glenn-” He snapped his jaw shut and looked at the floor.</p><p>The room was dark, the light from the window indirect and doing little more than highlighting what dust motes escaped Sylvain’s neatness.</p><p>“My dad had a bunch of bastards trying for a Crest,” Sylvain said into the silence. “I got to meet them. And one full sister that he told Mother had been stillborn because she was Crestless and not even a boy. Most of them were younger, but she was older. Named Julie, not that he knew or cared.”</p><p>Felix looked away from the floor just long enough to see the tears clumping up Sylvain’s spider-silk lashes.</p><p>“Miklan knew. He knew all of them. When they left us at night, he would tell them stories, try to cheer them up. Knew what all of them liked. Wouldn’t even look at me, but loved all of our siblings.” Sylvain tipped his head up to the ceiling, giving the tears a moment to flow freely. He knew. Even before Julie died, he knew I was the only one that was going to make it out. Elliot was what broke him. He was so small. So pale. Couldn’t’ve been more than six. Mik grabbed him and ran.” Sylvain laughed. “But he didn’t make it, anyway. Just me. It was always going to be just me.”</p><p>“He made his choices,” Felix said because he couldn’t say nothing, not to Sylvain.</p><p>“Yeah. And I make all of the wrong ones.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“If I had just listened to him-”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“But Father pulled the string and I just went on danc-”</p><p>Felix slapped his hand over Sylvain’s mouth and got up on his knees so he could glare directly into his eyes. “I said, <em> Shut up, </em>Sylvain. You’re not special. If those bastards could get the Imperial Princess, they could get you if you even thought about running. The only choice you made was to survive.”</p><p>The pain on Sylvain’s face was so raw, it scraped against the soft parts inside Felix, long hidden by Glenn’s death. He closed his eyes against the tears and sobbed into Felix’s hand. He leaned forward and grabbed Felix around the waist, pressing his face under Felix’s chin in a macabre mirror of how they’d been as children.</p><p>“I’m going to break our promise, Felix. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t apologizing to Felix. His words spilled onto the ground like they could soak up his siblings’ blood. Like they could bring back Miklan or Elliot or Julie or the ones whose names he couldn’t bring himself to speak.</p><p>“Shut up.” Felix held him tight, one hand on his back and one in Sylvain’s white-white hair.</p><p>“Crests don’t come for free, Fe. They took it out of my lifespan. It doesn’t matter how careful I-”</p><p>“I said shut the fuck up, Gau- Sylvain.” Felix twisted his fingers in Sylvain’s hair, pulling until it had to hurt. “As if I’m going to let you die.”</p><p>“This isn’t a problem you can just stick your sword in.”</p><p>Felix frowned. He frowned until he had furrows on his face and in his heart. “The Fraldarius Crest. It’s horseshit. It’s stupid. I hate it. I <em> hate </em> it.” Felix clenched his jaw, flexed his fingers in Sylvain’s hair, shoved the words out. “It’s stupid, but it makes us… good at magic. The old man is one of the best magical healers in the kingdom. But fuck him, we’re going to figure this out. For you and your siblings and Lysithea and the fucking Imperial Princess if she can come off her high horse long enough.”</p><p>“Thanks Felix,” Sylvain said. He didn’t believe him. That much was obvious.</p><p>“Fuck you, Sylvain.”</p><p>Sylvain laughed and for the first time since he came to the academy, maybe for the first time in years, there was humor in it.</p>
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